Art Appreciation and Lemonade
by SaltyJak
Summary: The last thing to drink in the house... and Vicky has it.


Timmy watched the condensation drip down the bottle.

It was the last thing to drink in the house, well, other than water. But in the eyes of an eleven year old boy? The last thing to drink.

And she had it.

Evidently, she still loved to torture him at every turn, though lately it was the psychological variety, rather than the physical.

Pink Lemonade. Her favorite, not his. He liked it, but it wasn't his favorite. He preferred the Peach Tea made by the same company, though he had already drank all of them.

He knew why she liked pink lemonade.

Maybe.

It had to be because it was the same color as her eyes. Even if that made her sound narcissistic. Which she still was.

Less so around him though. Agreeing to this new relationship certainly had its perks, first and foremost being that he had a girlfriend, a sadistic one with a mean streak, but a girlfriend nonetheless. Second, she had a car, and she was more than willing to drive him pretty much anywhere, on the condition that she got to do whatever she wanted to him later. Which was fine, 'whatever she wanted' usually consisted of the two of them making out, though she would rarely break out the maid outfit... no amount of times of her telling him that he looked good in a dress would make him comfortable with that. Third, and finally, love had softened her, not by a huge amount, she would always have the mean streak, and she would always love to tease him, but he truly enjoyed her company now, she was nicer to him, nicer than his parents ever were, which was saying a lot, considering who it was he was talking about.

Her eyes were beautiful. Though he didn't tell her that, it likely would've led to more teasing on her part, even if it was good-natured, he wasn't much of a fan.

He had gotten lost in them more than once, they were entrancing, dangerously so, he felt like a mouse looking into the eyes of a hungry snake, hypnotized and unaware of its imminent demise. No one else had eyes like Vicky. In his eleven years, he had seen nearly every eye color there was: red, blue, green, brown, violet, yellow, orange...

Wait, no. Wanda had pink eyes too, though he assumed it was because she was magic. Vicky was, as far as he knew anyway, human, and non-magical. Well, kind of, sappy as it was, she was magical to him. And beautiful. Something he never noticed until they were almost dead.

"_Wow... I'm kind of a dick..."_

Her hair, a fiery red, it reminded him of the hour of twilight, just as the sun was setting. One never got to enjoy such beautiful colors for long. Yet now he did, and whenever he wanted.

He relished the few times he got up the courage to thread his fingers through it. It was far softer and silkier than he thought it would be, he always imagined it to be thin and straw-like, not dissimilar to that of a witch, though that may have been his immature mind playing tricks on him, giving him false excuses to hate this girl who tormented him so.

Her skin was like porcelain, smooth to the touch and very light, odd, considering that she rarely shied away from the sun. And she rarely had any sort of blemish or acne.

"_She must use some kind of anti-acne cream or something..."_

Her face had the lightest dusting of freckles, though they became slightly more numerous and obvious during the summer months, they made her even more beautiful he realized upon looking back on several of their previous interactions, though she might disagree.

"Y'know... they have this great new invention called a camera." Vicky smirked at him. "Just thought I'd let you know, since you should take a picture, it'll last longer."

He blushed and quickly looked away.

Apparently, she had caught him staring. Again.

"_This would be so much easier if she didn't have eyes like a hawk..."_

He was contemplating the best way to get the drink out of her grasp, and had apparently forgotten this entirely when he stared into her eyes, something that happened a little too frequently lately.

He knew that she knew that he loved to just watch her go about her day, even if she spent the day doing nothing but reclining on the couch.

And he was doing it again now. She supposed that was what love was, just being able to enjoy the presence of another person, without even needing to interact with each other. It sounded so sappy and cliché in her head, the very things that she made fun of in romance movies, and here she was, essentially re-enacting them without a care in the world.

He was cute, there was no denying that. Everything about him really, the overly pink wardrobe, the teeth you could land a small aircraft on, the almost girlish figure, and of course, those blue eyes. Plenty of people had blue eyes, and different shades of blue as well, but his were different somehow, or maybe it was her love-addled brain playing tricks on her? No, it couldn't be, his eyes were just perfect, an icy blue she had never seen in anyone else. She feared she might get lost in them sometimes, though from the way he stared, he might feel the same about her.

He wanted her prize, she could tell from the look on his face.

When he wasn't staring at her, of course.

He wasn't getting it though, she knew this was the last drink in the house, and she wasn't sharing, whether he was her boyfriend or not.

"_Time for a little torture..."_

Vicky slowly, painfully slowly, turned the cap on the plastic bottle, eliciting a quiet hiss from it, then tossed the cap aside and began lifting it toward her lips.

Timmy sprung forward and stuck out his arm to grab the drink...

Only to come up short as she quickly pulled it away, and land face first in Vicky's lap, his outstretched hand grasping the empty air.

"Nice try Twerp." she moved the drink to her lips and drank deeply.

"Why do you do that?" he turned over in her lap to look up at her.

"I told you, I love to torture you." she stated matter-of-factly.

"But there's nothing left to drink..."

"Last I checked, your parents paid the water bill, get some water from the sink."

"But Vicky..." he whined at her. "Why do you like that kind anyway?" the question came out of the blue.

"I dunno, I just do. It feels... right, y'know? I don't think I can explain it any other way. Like a..." she put her index finger to her lips in thought. "A constant! Yeah! I bet if there are other Vickys in other universes, they all probably like pink lemonade."

"You believe in that whole 'theory of multiple universes'?"

"Yeah, I do. It's a nice thought to have. Just think, somewhere out there is another me exploring post-apocalyptia, or the wild west, or some medieval land... maybe even another you alongside her."

"Well, can I have some? I'm really thirsty..." the explanation had apparently gone over his head.

"That's what the water is for..." she took another sip. "Besides, what happened to all the drinks I got you?"

"I drank them." his hand darted up toward the drink, only for her to hold it above her head, just out of reach. "C'mon..."

"You know, there's cute whining, which you normally do, then there's bitchy whining, which you're doing now."

"Hmph." he poked her in the side, eliciting a squeak of surprise from her. _"What the?" _A sly grin adorned his face. "Are you... ticklish?"

"No." she answered a little too quickly for it to be the truth.

He poked her side again, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Sure seems like you are."

"Two can play at this game..." she looked at him with an evil glint in her eyes.

"Oh really?" Timmy put his arms up, and his hands behind his head, daring her to try.

She put the drink down and immediately began searching him for a weak spot, anything she could do to elicit a similar response to what she did when he poked her side. Her hands roamed over him, only avoiding touching _that_ spot, yet he kept the smug grin on his face the whole time.

"Seriously?! How are you not ticklish?!" Underarms, stomach, sides, neck, nothing caused any change in his demeanor.

As if to taunt her, he brought his hand up to her hip and lightly dragged his fingers across it, making her jump and shy away from his touch. "Well this _is_ interesting, my evil babysitter is ticklish, _very_ ticklish."

"You want me to prove how evil I can be? I suggest you stop." she was turning pinker by the minute.

He responded by repeating his previous action, on both hips this time.

Vicky squirmed in his grasp. "Haha! Stop!" she was giggling now, despite her valiant efforts to keep a straight face. It took all her resolve to not throw him off of her, she didn't want him tickling her, but she also didn't want to hurt him inadvertently by throwing him off her and onto the floor. Or into the coffee table. "I'm- heehee! I'm gonna get you back for this!"

"If you'd just give me the lemonade, I wouldn't have to resort to this tactic!"

She grabbed both his hands with her left hand and held him up in the air. "If I let you have a taste, will you stop tickling me?"

Timmy dangled in the air and thought for several seconds. "No promises."

"Hmph." while still holding him up by his wrists, she leaned over and grabbed the lemonade from where she had left it, then drank it down.

"Hey!" he watched as the drink, and his hopes of not dying of dehydration, disappeared.

"What? I said you'd get a taste..." Vicky tossed away the bottle, released his wrists, causing him to bounce as he hit the couch, then get pulled flush against her, mid-bounce, and into a greedy kiss.

Now, normally, Vicky let Timmy go at his own pace when it came to kissing, despite her rather... forthright... personality, she didn't want to rush him into anything that might make him uncomfortable, or scar him for life.

This was not the case now. Vicky had taken advantage of his shock from being kissed so unexpectedly and had thrust her tongue into his mouth. He had gone limp in her arms, making her feel like the dominant one in their relationship. _"Suits me just fine."_

After nearly a minute, she pulled away and released him, causing him to fall backward onto the couch. He sat up and looked at her, his face flushed and him panting slightly.

"There, a taste." she grinned at him.

Timmy was suddenly aware that pink lemonade may actually be his favorite flavor after all.


End file.
